Smile, Idiot
by HazelinaAmberfire
Summary: I’m not saying that I suddenly came to love that smile of his. Neither am I saying that I started to adore his laugh. Hell, no. I still think they're stupid. But I've begun to understand the reason behind why he smiles and laughs so much."


That smile pisses me off.

That laugh makes me want to hurl.

The way he never takes things seriously makes me want to punch the daylights out of him.

"...Gokudera-kun...?"

I was so engrossed in my thoughts I almost didn't notice everyone at the table staring at me. I felt the urge to yell at them to stop staring, but I couldn't possibly do that right in front of the Tenth. Especially not when he was the one who called my name out of concern, though attracting the stares of everyone in the process. So I suppressed that urge by stuffing a whole plate of sushi down my throat in one gulp.

And choking on it.

Embarrassing myself in front of the Tenth. Then having to hear that baseball idiot laugh about it. Hellish torture.

That stupid laugh of his was just pissing the hell out of me. It was driving me crazy that he was laughing at something that wasn't even funny. It annoyed me to the point that I was seriously considering throwing him insults in between my intermittent chokes. Or even a couple of bombs for that matter.

But I didn't. Or rather, I couldn't. Every time I so much as glanced at that idiot, I'd choke harder. It got so bad that the Tenth had to rush over from his seat to help me cough out the disgusting (and now unrecognizable) remnants of the sushi that were making me splutter like an idiot.

It was just so goddamn _humiliating_.

When I recovered slightly from the coughing fit, I rushed out of the restaurant and ran down the street. I had no bloody idea where I was going, but hell; _anywhere_ was better than that restaurant, where that idiot was sitting right in front of me, mocking me with that idiotic laughter of his. I'd like to see him laugh about goddamn _everything_ if he had faced _half_ the hell I went through in my life. I mean, his life has been a heaven on earth.

He's got a perfectly good family.

Loved by everyone around him.

Never rejected, despised nor condemned.

That probably explains why he's always such a happy idiot. I bet if he were put in my shoes, he'd smile a lot less, if he'd even smile at all. I've got absolutely nothing to smile about. _Nothing_.

My mum was _assassinated_.

I can count the number of people who actually give a damn about me with one _finger_.

Always pushed away, hated and looked down on.

Life just isn't fair. There are those who are so goddamn lucky and those who are downright cursed from birth…

"Gokudera!"

It was that baseball idiot. The very _last_ person I wanted to see.

_What did I do to deserve this?_

My name was being called for the second time today. Only this time, it wasn't the Tenth who called out my name. And it wasn't in front of the Tenth that he called out my name.

So I told that baseball idiot to go and die. And being the idiot he is, he obviously didn't understand what 'go and die' meant because he was standing right beside me, very much _alive._

I figured if I just ignored him, he'd leave me alone. So I just stared down into the river and did just that. Well, what do you know. The idiot thought I was contemplating _suicide _and started _counselling _me. Like I needed _that_ right now. I just wanted peace and quiet, of which neither could be fulfilled by means of _counselling_.

He started telling me how he had attempted suicide before, and how he managed to solve all his problems, leaving no need to resort to such drastic measures. What a waste of time. In the first place, I had absolutely no intention of committing suicide. And secondly, there was just no problem that baseball idiot could have had that would have been worth contemplating hara kiri over.

Since ignoring him seemed fruitless, I decided to tell him that I just wasn't interested in whatever he had to say and that he should seriously consider committing suicide again. I mean, he didn't know how to 'go and die', so I figured committing suicide would suffice since they are just about one and the same thing.

I hoped, probably in vain, that he would get the message this time, and was about to start telling him off. And congratulations and all heartfelt warmth to me, he just had to interrupt me.

"You know, the first time I tried to commit suicide..."

Wait. He _actually_ tried it more than _once_?

"...it was because I felt so alone... sure, my father was around physically, but he was so emotionally detached it was almost like he wasn't there... hahaha..."

Laughing even when he's recalling something so depressing. He's either really strong or really stupid. I'd say it's the latter. Gives me more reason to stay away from him; stupidity is contagious.

Anyway, he continues telling of his dramatic little tragedy about how his father never loved him. Which, I might add, is utter bullshit. Probably.

Anyway, even if that were true, he could have easily turned to his mother for whatever company or love he needed.

Come to think of it, I've never actually seen his mother before. I'd have thought that baseball idiot, of all people, would have proudly introduced his mother to the whole world...

And as though he read my mind (which I prefer not to believe; the thought of baseball idiot reading my every thought just freaks me out), he brought up the subject of his mother.

"My mum was a really cheerful person who smiled and laughed all the time..."

Figures. I always did wonder where he learnt to annoyingly punctuate every sentence with a smile or a laugh. And I think he meant to say that his mum _is _a cheerful person...

Once again, as though he knew what I was thinking (I still believe it was a mere coincidence), he addressed what I thought was a grammatical error. He said his mother was dead. That made a whole lot more sense… wait. _Dead_?

Now all this while, I was partially listening to what he was saying and partially being engrossed in _criticizing_ what he was saying, so I could have misheard what he said. I _must_ have misheard what he said. Or perhaps it was meant to be a joke. There was no way he meant it in a serious way. Not when he laughed right after finishing the sentence.

So I waited for the idiot to say 'Happy Belated April's Fools' or 'Got ya!' or anything else that signalled that I had every right to push him into the river for playing a fool around me.

But it never came. It was then that I knew there was no mistaking what I heard and that it wasn't a joke either.

"Yeah, my mother passed away when I was very young..."

He repeated himself for me like he _knew_ what I was thinking. But this time, I didn't dwell on it too much. I needed to hear more. I needed to discover a flaw in his almost convincing story, rub it in his face, and then push him into the river. But he never gave me a chance to.

"It happened when I was 6. My mum and I were going for an evening stroll when this bunch of drunken men bumped into us and wanted to pick a fight with us. My mum probably knew where it was going because she just told me that they were a bunch of friends and then asked me to return home first. I saw her talking to those men so I assumed what she said to be true and decided to do as she told me to."

That baseball idiot actually looked so serious while telling me all this. His stupid grin was gone (thank goodness for that) and he was actually frowning a little. But no matter how convincing his facial expression was, he wasn't gonna buy me over. It had to be a lie. It just _had_ to be. Or maybe the story had a happy ending of sorts. Yeah. That must be it.

So I allowed him to continue.

As he did, I realised that wasn't the case.

"Then I heard a scream, and saw my mum lying on the floor, being held down by those drunkards. I ran back towards her, but stopped when I saw those men..."

He paused. Then, as though he'd lost his ability to project his voice, he let out the last few words in whispers.

"...when I saw them stabbing her repeatedly... and then gorging out her eyeballs..."

_What the hell._

_So that's why he always uses the blunt edge of his sword._

I could see that he was too traumatized by the memory of his mum being brutally murdered to speak. I don't blame him. What he saw those sick bastards do to his own mother that night must have scarred him for _life. _Which is, of course, assuming what he's saying is true.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice breaking occasionally as he did.

"They were ripping her apart... I could hear her screaming for help... but I didn't do anything to stop them... I didn't do anything to save her... I was of no help at all... I couldn't even move... I was so scared... And I just watched her from afar..."

By now I could see that his face was drenched in tears and perspiration. His voice cracked slightly as he tried to speak and his whole body was visibly trembling. There was no mistaking it; he couldn't have been makng all of this up. And I couldn't take any more of it. I felt like my insides were being torn up just watching him break down like this. I wanted him to stop. But he continued on.

"I just watched as she was tortured to death. What kind of a lousy son I am... watching his own mother die without trying to protect her..."

_So he protects his friends at his own expense because the guilt of not being able to protect his own mother still torments him. That explains why he was willing to sacrifice his arm to protect the Tenth that time._

"I only ran over to help her after the men left her. I betrayed her. And yet somehow she still managed to smile at me. It was just like her to forgive me with a smile everytime I wronged her..."

He calmed down somewhat and when he wasn't shaking as uncontrollably as he was before, I saw a smile form on his lips. But this time, it was a different sort of smile. Not the idiotic kind that just made me want to slap his face. Rather, it was the kind that expressed regret, shame, and a longing to turn back time and make things right. It was a smile I could actually relate to.

"After my mum's death, my dad rarely spoke to me. It was almost as though he didn't know me. Now that I think about it, I guess it was his way of mourning over my mum's death; isolating himself from everyone else. But back then, I thought it was because he hated me for not being able to protect my mum. I felt so guilty that I welcomed that treatment. It was like penance to me. But as much as I accepted such a treatment, it was what made me sink deeper into depression and despair, and eventually consider ending my life. And I didn't want it to continue that way. I wanted to be shown affection. The kind my mum always showed me. Even if I knew I didn't deserve it.

"I thought that in order to earn his love and affection, I had to be like my mum. I mean, he wasn't so detached when my mum was around. So I figured if he felt that my mum was alive again, he'd start talking to me and playing with me like he used to. I always heard from others that I had my mother's smile, and that my laughter sounded just like my mother's. So I gave it a shot. Everytime I walked past my dad, I smiled. Even when there was nothing to laugh about, I laughed. Eventually my dad started to talk to me, pat my head, and show he cared... but I always felt that it wasn't me he cared about. It felt more like it was the image of my mum he saw in me that he loved. Even then, I was desperate for him to acknowledge me. So I kept up the facade until it became a part of me."

_So that's why he's always smiling like an idiot and laughing at everything. It was a desperate attempt to get his father to love him, even if it might have ended up being his resemblance to his mother that was loved instead._

"But I guess it wasn't just my dad who saw my mum in me. Every time I looked into the mirror and smiled, I was reminded of those times my mum would smile at me when I needed someone to cheer me up. And whenever I laughed, I could visualize her standing beside me… watching me play, eat, sleep… and I would feel like she was right there with me..."

Yeah. I know how that must have felt. For me it was the piano that brought me memories of the piano nee-san whom I only found out was my mother after she died in that so-called accident. Everyday I'd pray that the rumors of her death weren't true. Whenever I see a piano, I'd sit by it… waiting.

Just waiting.

Waiting for her to show up.

But she never does.

My mind keeps telling me that she doesn't know where I am, so, logically speaking, she isn't going to come for me.

But my heart keeps saying that maybe... just maybe... she will show up. Just like she always did before.

And I'd play a few notes while waiting. But she still doesn't show up.

The notes echo throughout the room and spill out into the corridor in search for her.

And there I am, seated by the piano, hoping in vain that she would look into the room to tell me how beautifully I'm playing.

I looked into his eyes, which were staring into the distance, fixated at nothing in particular. There was something about him that just didn't seem… him. His demeanor conveyed hopelessness and anguish. I imagine the idiot must have been bottling up all these feelings, trying not to think about them. And I thought I was the only one struggling to be strong.

"Wanna head back to the restaurant?"

I had gotten so used to hearing low, monotonous whispers that my brain barely registered the overly cheerful and annoyingly friendly voice the idiot was using to speak to me. When it finally hit me that he was actually asking me a question and expecting an answer, I just nodded my head, more out of reflex than anything else. And obviously he took that as an invitation to grab my hand and start dragging me back towards the restaurant.

Nothing much happened after, save for perhaps the Tenth meeting us along the way and walking back to the restaurant with us.

As for Yamamoto, he just smiled his stupid little smile again, as though nothing had ever happened.

I realised that as much as his smile pisses me off, if smiling meant that he wouldn't have emotional breakdowns like this... I'd let him smile to his hearts content.

I also came to the realisation that when he gets serious, he starts thinking too much... though when he's not serious, he really doesn't think at all.

I'm not saying that I suddenly came to love that smile of his. Neither am I saying that I started to adore his laugh. _Hell, _no. I still think they're stupid.

But I've begun to understand the reason behind why he smiles and laughs so much.

That smile comforts him.

That laugh stops him from sinking into depression.

The way he never takes things seriously prevents him from taking everything too seriously.


End file.
